It was an unspoken rule among the Weasley family that the only valid reason to miss Molly's Sunday dinners at the Burrow was extreme illness, and even then, it really needed to be something contagious. However, on this particular Sunday, Ron just couldn't do it. It was Halloween, which held its own significance for him, but he hadn't expected to feel so down about additionally it being his first Halloween away from Rose.

She was writing to him quite often, but her letters were frustratingly brief and didn't give him much insight into what was going on at Beauxbatons. Several times his daughter had mentioned some kind of special project she was working on, but she didn't seem to be making much progress on it, from what he could gather; she had written about spending a lot of time in the library, which made his heart ache in an all too familiar way.

Ron got up to grab another butterbeer as his Floo lit up with green flames and his sister stepped out into his living room. "Missed you at dinner," Ginny said, extending the container she was holding to him. "Mum sends her love by way of food."

"Thanks. Just wasn't in the mood tonight." Ginny nodded as she followed him to the kitchen.

"I kind of figured. It's not been your favorite holiday for, oh, about ten years now?"

Ron glared darkly at her. "Save it, Gin."

She looked like she had every intention of pressing the subject but uncharacteristically held her tongue. "How's Rosie?"

"Great. I think." Ron frowned and pulled two butterbeers from the fridge, handing one to Ginny. "She's spending all her free time in the library."

Ginny laughed. "Well, she definitely didn't get that from you."

"She has been kicked out several times by the librarian, though."

"That's our girl." Ginny paused, then asked hesitantly, "How do you suppose things are going at Ilvermorny?"

"Wouldn't know, would I?" Ron took a long swig of his drink. His family all knew better than to broach this subject with him, and though she hadn't mentioned them by name, Ginny was treading dangerously close to the taboo topic.

"Don't you ever think about—"

"No," Ron cut her off firmly. "Because if I did, I'd go bloody mental."

Ginny sighed but changed gears slightly. "Well, if you're not thinking about...her...then do you suppose I could interest you to think about someone else?"

"What are you on about?"

"My friend Beth who works in the trainer's office at the Harpies. She thinks you're cute, Merlin help her, and she's going to be in town next weekend. What do you say to a double date with her and Harry and I?"

"That pathetic, am I?" Ron asked with a smirk.

"You're not pathetic, but you're also not a hundred years old," Ginny chastised him. "We don't even have to call it a date. Just drinks, yeah?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Good, because I already told her we'd go." Ginny chunked her empty bottle into the rubbish bin and headed back to the Floo with a wave.

Ron sat down at the kitchen table and grimaced. It wasn't as if he never dated, but the occasions were few and far between. Because, despite what he had told Ginny, not a single day went by that he didn't think about Hermione and his other daughter.


Two months into her first year at Beauxbatons, and things were going well for Holly. She was doing well in classes, she had made lots of new friends, and her French had vastly improved since her arrival, which she had wasted no time in pointing out in a letter to her mother, since that had been one of the reasons she had given for coming here.

The only bit of her schooling experience that wasn't quite falling in line was the never-ending scrutiny she got from Rose Weasley. Rose hadn't again attempted to rope Holly into whatever harebrained scheme she had planned, but Holly frequently saw her in the library flipping through books on wizarding genealogy, and she was sure she was still looking for some mysterious connection between them.

Holly was sure there had to be some logical explanation; after all, what was the alternative? That she and this girl that she had never met were actually sisters? Twins? The idea was preposterous. But at the same time, she hadn't brought it up to her mum, either, burdened by the tiny, festering idea in the back of her mind that it might actually be true.

She was in the library on the afternoon of Halloween, working on an essay for transfiguration, when she saw Rose walking purposefully toward her table. Holly sighed inwardly, not only at the interruption, but at the idea of having to take up this conversation again. "I'd like to talk to you," Rose whispered as she took the seat across from Holly.

"I'm not doing this with you again," Holly hissed back. "And I'm busy."

"Books have gotten me nowhere. If we're going to get to the bottom of this, we need to share information."

"The bottom of what?" Holly's voice rose in irritation, earning them a shush from the librarian. "I've told you. I'm not interested in your mystery solving adventures."

"I'm not asking for your deepest darkest secrets," Rose lamented. "Just the basics. Like, when's your birthday?" Holly didn't answer, just lifted her quill to keep scratching away at her essay, but Rose wasn't deterred. "Mine's April sixth." Holly froze; April sixth was her birthday. She tried to go back to her essay, but her momentary lapse was enough for Rose. "Aha!"

"Ça suffit!" Madame Blanchet exclaimed in response to Rose's outburst. "Sortez, maintenant! Et détention, pour les deux!"

"Oh, now you've done it," Holly grumbled as she gathered her things and retreated from the library. Rose, who had come in empty handed, followed her out without the slightest bit of remorse. "Look, if I sit down and talk to you, and prove that you're just crazy, will you leave me alone?"

Rose shrugged. "No promises, but it's a start."


Rose could barely even eat at the Halloween feast that night. She and Holly had the same birthday. Holly hadn't come out and said it, but it was obvious from her reaction. And she had agreed to talk to her, answer questions. Rose would have to make a list of all the things she had running through her head that she wanted to know. Not just about the logistics of how they had come to be separated, but about Holly's mum, who was undoubtedly Rose's mum. She'd never been short on female role models growing up, but she had always been curious about her mum, and her dad flat refused to talk about her. They were serving their detention together the following evening, deep cleaning the school's supply of potion cauldrons, and it might be the only chance Rose got, so she wanted to be prepared.

"Okay, promise you'll be honest," Rose said as she settled in with the stiff-bristled brush and started to scrub. Across the table, Holly rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. "When's your birthday?"

"It's April sixth, alright? But it's just-"

"If you say a coincidence, I swear I'll throw these slug guts at you." Rose thought about the list of questions she had stuffed in her pocket. "You're American?"

"Sort of. My mother's English, but she raised me in New York."

"What about your dad?"

Holly shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable for the first time. "He's English, too, but I've never met him. I mean, I did when I was a baby, I suppose."

"I've never met my mum, either," Rose said pointedly. "It's always just been me and my dad."

"What's your dad like?" Holly asked. Rose hadn't been expecting her to ask anything, but she was glad to answer.

"He's the best. He runs a joke shop with my Uncle George, so he's always got funny things in the house. But he never works too much. Always there when I need someone to talk to. I miss him a lot."

"That must be nice."

Rose nodded. "What about your mum?"

"She's quite brilliant. And kind. She works for the wizarding government in America, to pass laws for the rights of magical creatures. Well, not creatures; she wouldn't like me to say that. House elves, and werewolves, and whatnot."

"So, if your mum is English, she must have gone to Hogwarts?" Holly nodded. "Do you know when?"

"She was in school during the second wizarding war. Had me only a year or so after Voldemort fell."

"That's when my dad was in school, too. He was quite young when I was born. He was in Gryffindor."

"So was my mum."

"Well then, they must have known each other!"

"That doesn't mean that…" Holly trailed off, then said very quietly, "I have a picture, in my trunk. Of my parents together. It's the only one I've ever seen of my dad. My mum had it hidden in her sock drawer, and she let me make a copy to bring with me to school." Rose held her breath. Holly was finally opening up, and she didn't want to ruin it. "Would you like to see it?"

"Are you kidding?" Rose exclaimed. "Of course I would! What are we waiting for?"

"Detention, remember?" Holly said, though she was smiling slightly as she went back to scrubbing at her cauldron. When they were finally finished, it was all Rose could do not to drag Holly back to the Papillonlisse dormitory at a full speed run. "Wait here," Holly instructed when they were outside the door to the common room. "I'll go get it."

It felt like hours waiting for Holly to return, and when she did, she was holding the picture close to her chest. "You don't seem so certain that I'm crazy anymore," Rose pointed out, taking in how nervous she looked.

"You're definitely crazy," Holly retorted, "but maybe not about this." She took a deep breath and then handed Rose the picture, and Rose was sure her sharp intake of breath told Holly all she needed to know. Though he was much younger in this picture, the man smiling and dancing with Holly's mom was undoubtedly Rose's dad.